Roses are Red
by fictionfairytalesfantasy4921
Summary: Sherlock has been receiving anonymous Valentines from someone at his school for twelve years.


A/N: Wow, I meant to post this earlier but had some technical difficulties. Oh well, thank you for viewing! Sorry for any mistakes, confusion, OOC tendencies, POV changes, etc. I had fun writing this little fic and I hope you all enjoy it! Please leave some reviews and likes to let me know how you like it! xoxo

Also on AO3

* * *

It stared in the first grade. Their teacher had assigned them a project that involved giving Valentines to each student in the classroom.

Sherlock could never have been more appalled in his life. He actually had to go out and retrieve little candies and cards for each idiotic kid in his class and be kind about it. He nearly gagged, how tedious.

And that is when Sherlock Holmes decided that Valentines Day is by far the most tormenting holiday in existence. Hell, why is it even considered such? There is nothing special about the day, no one gets the day off. Really it is a day for adults to ship their children away with a nanny so they can go eat candy and buy each other pink items.

How is the day relevant to the youth in school?

Sherlock dreaded the upcoming fourteenth of February, the day he will be forced into interaction and affection.

* * *

John Watson is a boy of kindness. He is the type of person who loves everything and everyone; he can see the best in even the worst people. His mother has always told him that he is 'her little angel', always listening and always taking care of those around him.

So when John started filling out his Valentines Day cards, it was no surprise that an idea came to mind regarding an intelligent, and incredibly rude, classmate of his. John subconsciously thought to give another act of his impetuous kindness, not to satisfy his mother or even himself; just because he can and would like very much to make the grumpy, young boy smile.

The two never actually spoke and in fact, they didn't even sit near each other. But John heard enough stories from his friends about the way this Sherlock Holmes treats the people around him, like they are utter idiots. This is not to mention the way he almost always ends up teaching the class. Sherlock tends to get ahead of the teacher in the lesson, answering questions before they're finished, jumping steps, and even lessons, ahead of everyone else.

It was impressive to say the least. John is truly amazed that someone could be so smart, he wondered how this kid is capable of doing such things and if John could ever live up to such a clever mind.

And that is why John was doing his very best at creating the greatest Valentines card and picking out the most delicious looking piece of candy in the bag to give to Sherlock. This guy is fascinating to John, and he wants to acknowledge this, considering no one else ever has. His classmates just call him a Freak and run the opposite direction on the playground. John wondered if Sherlocks family knows how smart the boy is and can appreciate such intelligence. No one else seems to.

John stared at the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Valentines themed card and debated what to write. Surely it can't be so difficult?

John settled on being blunt, considering he can't think properly for this, and there is a minor amount of space available.

_You're really smart. I hope your day goes well._

John examined his chicken scratch handwriting and smiled in satisfaction. Yes, that is perfect!

* * *

Sherlock opened all his cards that were left on his desk, along with little pieces of candy, just as the rest of the class were doing. All of them said _to Sherlock from_ (insert irrelevant name here) with the cheesy, already printed words and pictures stamped on the rectangular card. Hmph, he can imagine what his desk would look like if the teacher _didn't_ force all the students to give Valentines to each other…

That was when Sherlock stumbled across another Ninja Turtle themed card that, to Sherlocks surprise, actually had words handwritten on the inside.

_You're really smart. I hope your day goes well._

Sherlock stared at the card, shock and a bit of pride filling his expression. Someone in this class actually understands his intelligence and can appreciate it. Must be someone who he hasn't scared off yet, why else would he receive such kindness?

Sherlock searched for a name on the card, and then grew frantic… Why can't he find it? Why is it not written?

Sherlock pouted in his seat, he could just ask everyone who got the Ninja Turtle cards except he has received about six other similar ones. (The creativity in the class lacks significantly, not that that is any news to Sherlock).

He dumped all his Valentines in his backpack but kept his special Valentine with him as they were dismissed for lunch.

Sherlocks day went very well.

* * *

John went through his Valentines and finished with Sherlocks that was nothing but _to John from Sherlock Holmes_ in a Myth Busters themed card. John smiled softly to himself, that seems exactly like something Sherlock would buy.

John looked over to said classmate on the other side of the room. The boy looked intent with his process of reading his Valentines. His dark, curly hair fell over his face as he read one particular card for longer than the others. Suddenly, Sherlock was flipping the card to and fro as if searching for something. John looked away and tried to look busy incase the boy started looking about the classroom.

_What is he looking for? Whose card is that? _John peaked up and watched Sherlock pout to himself with the card still in hand.

Once it was time to go, John noticed Sherlock pour all the other cards and candies into his backpack and carry the special one in his hand, keeping a strong grip on it all the way to the cafeteria.

John formulated a plan. He needed to know if that was his card Sherlock was holding dearly to himself. So, as nonchalant as possible, John was able to get into the lunch line behind Sherlock and gaze over his shoulder casually, as if seeing if the line were speeding up. He glanced down and saw Sherlock still inspecting it, that was when John noticed his own handwriting, and to his dismay, no name in the _from_ category.

Of course, it is not required to sign names, not everyone does, but John _always_ signed his name. Always. And he really wanted to on that Valentine.

John dropped back down to his normal size and scowled at his idiocy. How could he forget to sign his name on the most important card he gave?

When the school day started to come to a close, John thought that maybe it's for the best that Sherlock doesn't know who wrote it. For all John knows, it could result with him being at the end of one of Sherlocks rude rants about stupid people, and his observations about where said people came from and are going.

Yes, John is glad he didn't sign his name, even with the slight chance of a good outcome.

* * *

It was sixth grade when things started to change. John discovered his passion for rugby and played for the school team. Luckily, that was when he hit puberty and was actually physically able to go after his passion. His height grew a bit taller than most of his peers, his body became more toned and strong, though that could be because of his rugby practices and working out frequently, his jaw sharpened and his blond hair grew long enough to flip out of the way. Least to say, John became the most popular and attractive kid in the school.

Girls fell all over him, and though his hormone infected body was screaming to go for them, his mind and heart were not in it. They were focused elsewhere, especially come February fourteenth.

Every year on Valentines Day since the first grade, John has been giving Sherlock special Valentines he wrote, they weren't anything phenomenal but they were compliments that eventually started to put a noticeable smile on the boys face.

They all sounded something like this:

_You did a really good job in the science fair, I never would have thought it possible to make plastic out of milk. Congratulations on winning first._

_Sally has been oddly rude this year. Don't listen to her, ever. (Not that I would ever expect a genius like you to let some idiotic girl get in your head, she might actually destroy someones brain cells!) It was funny when you called her and the Anderson boy out about kissing on the playground. She deserved it, well done! :)_

Now they're in middle school and things have changed. The teachers don't require those Valentines anymore, instead, at lunch you go to a small booth in the corner of the cafeteria and write the persons name down and pay for a candy gram- which is exactly how it sounds.

John did just that.

He paid for a large heart-shaped peanut butter cup (hoping Sherlock likes Reese's) and wrote a personal message on one of the plain paper cards, keeping sure to not write his name:

Just because we are in middle school and seem to be "too big" to be forced to pass out Valentines in class, doesn't mean that will stop me. I hope your first year here is going as well as mine (which is amazing!)

John folded the paper in half and put it in the stack with the others, a satisfied smile curled on his lips. Come Valentines Day, Sherlock will get a delivery in one of his classes from his anonymous Valentine.

* * *

Sherlock was curious to know if something were to happen this year on Valentines Day. It's middle school so things are different. Why would anyone go out of their way to pay and give him a 'candy gram'? It's absurd. Yet Sherlock was still hopeful, a dangerous emotion and verging on the line of a scolding from his brother.

Since the first grade, Sherlock enjoyed Valentines Day. He aways received a Valentine from someone in his class, though they never signed their name and Sherlock slowly grew to accept that, though the mystery is damning and his curiosity was killing him. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize this one-way relationship.

But this is Sherlock. Of course he tried going through the process of elimination by keeping in mind all the new students, and students that left over the years and crossed them off the list. Unfortunately it didn't help, considering there were only three new students and only two left.

He also tried his best to examine the handwriting of his classmates but to no avail, he eliminated females keeping in mind the handwriting looks a bit sloppier and smaller than a girls would. Though he still couldn't find this mystery man.

Come Valentines Day, Sherlock grew anxious in each of his classes. What if his admirer decided to stop giving him little compliments? What if he transferred schools?

Just as Sherlock was fearing the worst in his fourth hour class, the door opened and in came two people holding candy grams. Six people in the class received one, Sherlock included.

Peanut butter cups. He's never had them before but he is trusting his admirer to be a good judge in taste as seeing he is a good judge in character (meaning himself, obviously.)

Sherlock opened the note and immediately smiled.

* * *

The following years were much the same. Sherlock was growing impatient and actually aggravated that he hasn't been able to figure it out yet. But goddamn the school is huge with over three-thousand students. In grade school, his classrooms ranged from thirty to forty students, but he never so much has given someone the time of day let alone a second glance.

It is high school now and Sherlock was the last to hit puberty. Instead of this small frail and rude child everyone knows him as, he became the enormously tall and defined man that everyone feared. He could easily be mistaken for a senior and not a freshman. His confidence boosted as well, and that surprised him considering he was already confident to begin with. He got the nerve to tell his teachers off as well as other students right in the middle of class. If someone pissed him off he just started deducing the most embarrassing fact about said person.

People are idiots, they deserve criticism.

Sherlock was feeling a bit like his sixth grade self again when he considered the thought of his admirer moving. Though he is starting to think it is unlikely. He has been consistent for all these years he doubts anything will change now.

So come Valentines Day, Sherlock wasn't all that surprised to receive a high school version of a candy gram which gave you many more options like roses, candies, stuffed animals, singers (yes some members of the choir come in a group and sing annoying love songs) so all the really tedious relationship things that would usually set Sherlocks teeth on edge, given his circumstances, slightly excited him.

Sherlock stared down at his Valentine. He seemed to have gotten the lottery this year. On his desk now sat a red rose and a small stuffed bear holding a heart. Beside it was a large chocolate bar with a note:

Would've done the singing gram too, but I was hoping to avoid any unnecessary embarrassment. I'm sure you're going to be thrilled carrying around a flower and a stuffed animal.

_You've changed this year, congrats on finally hitting that growth spurt, you can actually scare people away without a single word now! That's probably a major accomplishment to you. ;)_

_Happy Valentines Day, looking forward to the next one._

Sherlock grinned. Of course he hates carrying around a bunch of corny items, but Sherlock is easily intimidating enough now to just give one wandering eye a look and they back down like a scared prey running from a predator. Sherlock looked around the room to see a few surprised lingering stares and he didn't even need to glare this time, they looked away on their own accord.

Yes, an accomplishment indeed.

* * *

It was Junior year when John officially met Sherlock. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous as hell. It was Chemistry class, of all things. And he was assigned a seat next to his now lab partner Sherlock Holmes. John swallowed hard as the teacher informed them to introduce themselves and get to know their partner as seeing they will be with them for the rest of the year.

The class got to talking enthusiastically to one another and John sat awkwardly while Sherlock appeared to be ignoring him. Then the worst had to happen, their teacher approached.

"Mr. Watson and Mr. Holmes, a problem?"

Sherlock looked up and glared at the teacher, clearly about to speak some snide remark but John cut in before he had the chance.

"No problem, sir." John smiled. "We- uh- already know each other." He supposes that's true. He could see Sherlock look at him from the corner of his eye.

"Is that so?" The teacher questioned.

"Yes, sir." John spoke with sincerity.

"Then why don't you two talk? I'm sure there is something more to talk about with someone you know as opposed to someone you don't."

"Actually there is no difference." Sherlock started. John held his breath. "Something you talk about with a stranger can easily be the same thing you talk about with someone you know."

The teacher eyed Sherlock and then John wearily, then sighed in defeat. "Just humor me and interact please." He ordered and walked away.

Sherlock shook his head. "Tedious." He grumbled.

"I wasn't lying you know." John started hesitantly.

"I know. Do you take me as stupid?" Sherlock questioned with annoyance and John paused before responding, he should've known Sherlock would be like this in person. Now he just needs to find a way to get that smile on his face the way those Valentine cards seemed to. "Just the opposite. I think you're brilliant." John said. _Oh god what if that was too much? What if he figures out it was me sending those cards? What would happen? Disappointment? Rejection?_ John didn't want to think about it.

Sherlock turned and looked at him for the first time. His icy eyes raked over Johns body, deducing him. Finally Sherlock scoffed. "Right. A jock trying to compliment the school joke. Nice try, Watson." Sherlock glared and turned away.

"What? It's not like that-"

"Is it not?" Sherlock questioned in surprise. "If you think I'm _so_ brilliant wouldn't I be correct about that? Of course I would but you wouldn't admit to it because you try so hard to maintain your image as the perfect student and friend."

John stared at him. The thing is, the guy is so completely wrong. He is trying to get Sherlock to like him but he is getting all the wrong reasons from it.

"Even a genius can be wrong sometimes." John said in the thick silence between them.

"I can't. And do you want to know why?" Sherlock turned to John in a challenge. John looked away. "Because you know it's the truth."

John didn't look at Sherlock. He continued staring forward just as their teacher decided it was time to continue on with class.

During the rest of the class hour, John was wondering why he ever bothered all these years. Was he really putting his effort towards someone so cold and so bitter? He will accept compliments from the notes, but he won't accept them from the source? John weighed his options now, he needs to stop, move on. Sherlock Holmes is a lost cause.

Nice try, Watson.

* * *

Valentines Day came, and just to Johns luck, the deliveries were made in his Chemistry class and he got a front row view of the people coming and going with nothing sent in Sherlocks direction. The confusion on Sherlocks face was sincere and rather dismayed. When the two women left, the forlorn expression on Sherlocks face nearly broke John. How could he have done this to him? It was a routine, a habit, a tradition; John needs to fix this. He can't believe how stupid he has been, one bad conversation and John let it get the best of him. This is how Sherlock is, he knew it and even expected it. Yet here they are on Valentines Day and Sherlocks hands are empty.

Whether Sherlock is an ass or not, John can't let him feel so upset, especially when he is the cause of it.

John will fix this.

* * *

February fifteenth, Sherlock walked the halls to his locker. He is late to his first class, but what else is expected of him right now? Something happened to his admirer and there is nothing he can do about it.

All the more reason to listen to Mycroft (minor gag). _Caring is not an advantage._

Sherlock reached his locker and rolled the lock to their designated numbers. Once unlocked Sherlock opened the door, and definitely did not jump back when he was attacked by dozens upon dozens of red rose petals. Inside his locker on top of his Geometry textbook is a note. His admirer.

_Sorry for the delay. I hope you will forgive me (as an incentive, it isn't all that easy sticking three dozen rose petals into tiny slits of a locker door.)_

_Do have a good day, don't let my tardiness put you off. It won't happen again, I promise._

_Happy (late) Valentines Day._

_Until next time._

Sherlock couldn't help the smile on his face. He also couldn't help the frown that formed between his brows as well, fore the man still didn't reveal himself. They only have one year left together, what if Sherlock never discovers who this person is? Why was he late? Did Sherlock meet the person? No, that couldn't be, they wouldn't have done anything at all if that were the case.

Sherlock went home and placed the note with all the other ones he has kept over the years. Sherlock looked at the handwriting, it has changed over time since they were young, it went from sloppy and unsure to clear and confident, but definitely from the same person.

Sherlock sighed, actually sighed. He needs to know who this man is. Sherlock dug in his mind palace to review the information he has accumulated this far. He has memorized each Valentine given to him, cross referenced each letter and word to figure out which person in his school would say what. He even figured out the person is right handed, but that is no help given the majority of the population is right handed. He eliminated females, obviously Sherlock has gone through all his year books to see who stayed in his school and classes through the years, but that got nowhere fast. He has even resulted in smelling the letters but they smelt like nothing but ink and paper. Sherlock is beyond frustrated that he has not figured it out yet. It could be any person in the school. He has never felt more incompetent.

"I could always test them for you." Sherlock heard an annoying voice from his bedroom doorway. "I can also pull security cameras from the school to see who was at your locker."

"Get. Out. Mycroft." Sherlock doesn't even doubt that his fat brother already knows who it is. Sherlock needs to figure this out himself, even if he is pissed his brother figured it out first. Then again, he didn't use his mind to do so, just a couple clicks on his phone to get the information.

"Sherlock-"

"I said out!" Sherlock nearly yelled and looked at his nuisance of a brother. Mycroft looked unfazed, which is no surprise.

They stared down each other for a couple moments before Mycroft spoke in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"Need I remind you, brother dear, that caring is _not_ an advantage. Look at what it is doing to you. Your judgement is clouded, you have eliminated the people that seem completely unlikely." He paused, as if debating how to word his next sentence. "When we lose something, it is always the most unlikely place we find it."

Sherlock stared at Mycrofts back as he walked away.

* * *

It was Chemistry the next day that things took a turn for the worst, at least that's how John saw it.

"Shut up, Freak." Sally Donovan said from two tables over. "Nobody asked you."

A few snickers filled the classroom. It is just before class and their teacher is running late. Sally was going _on_ and _on _about how she just _can't_ figure out her math homework because she was 'sick'. In which, Sherlock just couldn't resist stepping in with _I'm sure you were._

"Oh don't take your anger out on me because Philip Anderson can't seem to leave his girlfriend for you." Sherlock stated rather loudly.

Sally fell silent and the rest of the room started murmuring.

"He's lying. Who are you going to believe? Me or the Freak? Just look at him, there is a reason nobody likes him or wants to be near him. He's just repulsive."

"Shut up." John said quietly but most definitely audibly. All eyes turned to the jock sitting next to the 'Freak'. John suddenly found his confidence. "Honestly, what makes you think you're so much better than him?"

Sally stuttered in coherent letters, not sure what to say. It is unlike the rugby captain to get angry, let alone stick up for the schools laughing stock, and he wasn't finished.

"Let me tell you this, all of you, this man right here is the most intelligent man I have ever come to meet. Rude, sure. Mostly because all of you are too small-minded to even appreciate such a talent."

The room was silent. John glared at all of them. John could feel Sherlocks eyes boring into the back of his skull. But suddenly John felt the need to point out something else. "And his name is Sherlock, _not _the Freak."

With that, John turned in his seat and faced the front of the room, just as the teacher decided to join them. John felt relieved, he wasn't sure if he could handle Sherlock or the rest of the class responding with some snarky remark to him. News about this outburst is probably already spreading throughout the school. God, what has he done?

After class, John packed his things as quickly as possible and was out the door before anyone else even had the chance to stand up. John made it all the way to the parking lot before he was stopped by someone. Dammit, he was so close.

"John." That is one voice that John could recognize anywhere, and he couldn't help but freeze in place on the sidewalk. His heart doing the exact opposite by leaping in his chest. "John." Sherlock said again when he didn't turn around.

John held his breath and turned, awaiting the rude lecture.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" John played ignorance.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Please John, don't be like them, I know you're smarter than that."

"I was sticking up for your arrogant, incompetent ass." John responded harshly.

"Incompetent?" Sherlock looked offended.

"Yes. God forbid you ever truly stand up for yourself. All you do is blabber all their secrets. That doesn't exactly help to get very many people to like you." John stated in annoyance.

"I don't care if they like me." Sherlock said with petulance. "I don't like _them_."

John sighed. Sherlock Holmes is impossible.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"You're smart, figure it out." John countered and looked directly into his icy blue eyes.

Sherlock stared back at John, his eyes flickering over his features. It was only seconds before he stated. "I've disappointed you."

John scoffed. "Good deduction, that."

Sherlock frowned. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why have I disappointed you? You had higher expectations of the Freak?" Sherlock questioned and actually looked confused.

"Yes." John said, almost going to ignore the nickname. Almost. "Don't call yourself that. You're not a freak."

Sherlock studied John once again, his face revealing nothing but his eyes always flicked across Johns face and stance, trying to figure out his every thought and every dirty secret. John shifted uncomfortably.

"Am I not?"

"No, you're better than that- better than them." John gestured to the school. "Don't you dare ever let anyone tell you otherwise." John smiled sadly and turned and left, leaving a confused and curious Sherlock on the schools sidewalk.

* * *

Sherlock paced his bedroom, his mind replaying the scene in Chemistry and his conversation with John. What is he playing at? Why is he so kind? He thought it was just John Watsons nature. Is he wrong?

No positive answer. Need more data.

Perhaps he is telling the truth and thinks Sherlock is intelligent. There is only one other person in the school that thinks so…

Sherlock ruffled his curls. Need more data.

Sherlock has worked with John in class, he has to admit that he really isn't as dumb as the rest of their classmates. He can keep up, mostly, with Sherlock. He frowned. Why hasn't he tried talking to John before? Nothing has ever been spoken between them but Chemistry problems.

Sherlock growled. Everything is inconclusive. Need more data.

* * *

John laid in his bed wide awake. It's two in the morning and he is still stressing over what he did in Chemistry. He can't help but feel that he has made a terrible mistake, granted Sherlock did need someone to stick up for him, but John knows the repercussions are going to be worse than the deed itself. The looks he started receiving after the event were horrendous, like he had turned into Sherlock Holmes himself. John also received text messages after school from some of his rugby friends asking things like _is it true?_

_What happened? _

_Tell me this is just a rumor. _

_Gay for the Freak?_

The last one set Johns blood to boil. He has never admitted to being gay except to his sister Harry (not because he is scared to, but because it's nobodies business.) John is nice to someone one time, and everyone is quick to jump to conclusions, and the worst part is they're right. All of them are correct. John did stick up for Sherlock and did get sincerely angry because yes he does have the biggest crush on Sherlock that has never lessened over the years and probably never will. Everyone knows that John is kind-hearted, but apparently that has gone out the window completely when being associated with the 'Freak'.

John slowly started to fall asleep, his gut and mind telling him that he is nervous beyond belief, but his heart is whispering that it will be okay because this is Sherlock and Sherlock will always be worth it.

* * *

The next day went just as John had predicted. Passing in the halls people would stare and whisper and the second John looked over they all turned away with guilty expressions.

In English, there is a girl named Sarah who talks to John constantly, and all his friends told him that she has a major crush on him. Too bad he wasn't interested, she would've made a great girlfriend with her sweet eyes and kind smile.

Sitting down in English, John found everyone 'modestly' moving a bit further away from John, including Sarah which surprised him most of all. This is not good.

Come lunch, John went to his usual table to find it completely full. All conversation stopped and eyes focused on him. In Johns usual seat is a girl, Mary, Sebastians new found girlfriend who pointedly ignored him. John is best friends with the majority of this table, or so he thought, especially Mike who is giving him an apologetic look. John scowled at the table. "Alright fine I get it, I defend one person and suddenly I'm no longer aloud. I expected better of all of you." John didn't bother to sound angry, just disappointed in them. It goes to show who his real friends are, he thought he knew them, he thought they knew _him_. Apparently not.

John turned around with tight lips and left the cafeteria, missing all the guilty stares that were trained on his back.

John wasn't sure where to go, where does one go when you can't go to lunch?

Eventually John found himself in front of the schools library and sighed. He supposes he can get some of his homework done, and if he finds a secluded enough corner, he can eat as well.

John entered the large library to find a few students he didn't recognize and the grumpy, old lady running the front desk, ignoring Johns presence completely. This is perfect, finally somewhere he can get some peace and privacy.

John wandered through the towers of bookshelves to the far back corner where no one could see him. He found himself at a table in a corner between the floor-to-ceiling window and two mountainous bookshelves. John didn't notice the backpack leaning against the opposite chair until the owner came out, nose deep in a book. The man looked up suddenly when realizing someone had taken his place.

Johns eyes widened to see that the man is Sherlock. John tried to think of something to say but it came out rushed and incoherent.

Sherlock frowned as John started to pack up his things. "Don't bother." Sherlock said without any of his usual malice.

John froze packing up mid-way, and watched as Sherlock sat down across from him. John finally gained his sense of self. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock frowned. "I would think that would be obvious."

"Okay, but why?" John questioned.

"I was here first. You clearly have nowhere else to go." Sherlock pointed out and went back to reading his book.

John bit his lip, as much as he would like to be here with Sherlock, he really shouldn't risk being seen with him right now. He can't ruin his life more so than he already has.

"Shut up." Sherlock ordered.

"I didn't say anything." John stated.

"You were thinking. It's annoying." He didn't lift his eyes from the book.

John shook his head. Sherlock is right, he is thinking and far too much, especially on this subject. Nobody is going to see him here, everyone is at lunch.

John looked down and began to eat silently while working on some algebra homework.

* * *

From that point on, John and Sherlock have been meeting at lunch in the library. Neither of them really saying much on the topic. When one doesn't have any homework to do, the other would help (or at least try to, after all Sherlock doesn't exactly need someone to help him.)

When neither of them had homework, they would sit and eat together-well, John would eat and scold Sherlock for not doing the same.

John would like to consider Sherlock a friend, and he couldn't be happier about it. He doesn't dare bring said subject to his attention though, in fear of rejection and losing him.

John has already lost all his other friends. No one will talk to him unless they absolutely have to. His rugby friends have tried to kick him off the team for even being associated with Sherlock but the coach wouldn't let them. John still hasn't determined whether that is a good thing or bad thing.

John and Sherlock very rarely speak in Chemistry, John is appreciative of this. He doesn't want to add fuel to the fire, but it is also a bit unsettling knowing that Sherlock knows this and feels the need to help John by avoiding him in the public eye. They have never once spoken about the rest of the school or their situation. They ignore the ongoing comments about 'freaks' and 'poor excuse of a jock'.

That is, until one day Sherlock turns up at the library with a bruise on his jaw and cut on his cheek.

"What the hell happened? Who did this?" John is furious, it's one thing to call them names but this is a whole other ballgame if it is becoming physical.

Sherlock waved him off like it's no big deal. "Nothing of significance."

"Sherlock." John scolded in his authoritative voice that he uses only on Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Really John, it is nothing. I threw the first punch."

John stared. "I- you what?"

"John, don't be so obtuse. Yes, people are idiots. So I hit one of them."

"What happened?" John repeated his question. Though he was extremely tempted to scold Sherlock about not going around hitting people just because they're idiots. Johns concern for Sherlock was too strong for a scolding at the moment.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding Johns eye. "Doesn't matter."

"Sherlock." John nearly yelled and then Sherlock was rambling.

"Bloody Anderson had it coming to begin with, so I don't understand the fuss of it all. He started in on the 'freak' part of it, which really is nothing, and kept going on and on about it. I'm use to it by now so it doesn't bother me. I've learned to accept that most people, especially _Anderson_ is completely inadequate. But then he started speaking about you and that's when I hit him." Sherlock was out of breath when he stopped speaking and still wouldn't look at John.

John kept up just barely but understood what Sherlock was saying. "What did he say about me?"

"Does it matter?" Sherlock threw back.

"Yes." John stated firmly. _Especially when you threw a punch for me._

"He said 'go run along to your pathetic rugby boyfriend and have yourself a nice shag. If you're capable that is.'"

Sherlock quoted word-for-word, and John couldn't help it-this should bother him and make him angry, but for whatever bizarre reason, he started to grin. "So you punched him."

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed.

John tried, he really did, but in the end he started to giggle. That finally got Sherlocks attention. At first he seemed rather confused which only made John laugh more, his whole body shook from the rumbles of laughter and soon enough, Sherlock was joining him. They both continued laughing together until a nearby younger student told them to be quiet a few bookcases over. John and Sherlock repressed their laughs but continued to chuckle with smiles on their faces.

* * *

The rest of the year continued the same way. John and Sherlock met in the library every lunch hour and slowly began to talk together in Chemistry. At some point, John couldn't recollect when exactly, they exchanged phone numbers. Come the end of the school year, the two of them promised to keep in touch and continue their get-togethers, even if it wasn't in a library or a classroom.

By the following year, John and Sherlock were best friends. The other students didn't seem surprised, but they still held their looks of disgust and utter shock that rugby player John Watson was associating with the class freak, Sherlock Holmes. John didn't care, and he didn't even care when none of the students wanted him on the team that year, and he didn't care when he didn't end up on the team because of it. Why would John ever want to be around people who are so critical and rude? The final year of high school and nobody has even grown up in the slightest. John found himself in an epiphany of concern that _this_ is the next generation to lead the world.

John ended up in English and Anatomy with Sherlock, they sat together in class and passed each other ridiculous notes, talking about the other students and the teacher. Sherlock deduced each one correctly and John would never be unimpressed by his friends magnificent talent.

As their time together grew, so did their feelings. Johns crush turned into something more, something he couldn't quite explain. His stomach trembled and his breathing picked up speed when he knew he was going to see Sherlock. Johns knees felt weak when he finally saw the pale man before him, all angles and lines, all black, blue and white. He started to worry about what he wore everyday, how he smelt, if his hair looked just right.

Then John had come to the realization that this must be what it's like to truly like someone. The problem is, Sherlock never gave the slightest hint of being interested.

John is gay no question but he hasn't exactly come out yet. John wondered if Sherlock felt this way as well. There has never been any indication that Sherlock is interested in anyone ever. Not even John.

Sherlock is like a rubix cude, complex and difficult to figure out and once you think you have the image correct, there is another side that throws him completely. Sherlock is never going to be figured out because there is always something more, something John is missing. He will never know if Sherlock is even capable of intimate feelings like those experienced in a relationship. Is he even capable of feelings in a _friendship_? John sometimes thinks he knows, then other times not so much.

All he knows is that he has never felt more happy than he is when he is with Sherlock. Their summer had been filled with stupid exploding experiments and forcing Sherlock to swim in a lake and making him actually eat his food and get a good nights rest. They texted whenever they weren't around each other, silly things or boring conversations. Sherlock had a habit of texting John when he was bored and would state so rather bluntly. Those times, despite how annoying it could be, John couldn't help but smile.

So come Valentines Day on their last year of high school, John got a bit nervous. He needs to reveal that he is Sherlocks admirer. Will he be disappointed? Happy? Angry? Utterly indifferent? He is finally going to find out.

John found himself in the cafeteria at the Valentines stand, he is late meeting Sherlock but he needs to get this ready and sent to him. Except this time, John wasn't sure what to say. Before it was always so easy, now it is suddenly the most difficult thing John has ever had to do. He knows Sherlock now, so this shouldn't be so hard, yet he can't find anything to say. And how should he say it? _Sherlock, it's me John Watson. It's always been me._ No that won't work. Perhaps a word or a phrase they both know? But what?

Then it hit him like a truck going sixty-five. John grinned. This will work perfectly.

* * *

Come Valentines Day, Sherlock and John sat in English as the Valentines were passed out. Sherlock received his usual, John didn't get any this year, not a surprise considering his recent social status. Sherlock opened his eagerly, and read what was inside:

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_This has taken so long_

_Are you ready for me to come to you?_

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_You know me better than anyone else_

_I'm sitting right next to you._

Sherlock shot his head to the left and looked at John who was looking down and blushing ferociously. He peaked through his lashes to find Sherlock looking at him with a blank expression-to anyone else that is, John at least got to know him well enough to know Sherlocks facial expressions even when it appears he has none. Sherlocks cupids-bow lips are slightly tugged up in the corners, barely noticeable to outside lookers, and his yes gleamed with brightness. John continued to blush but he felt more confident about it this time. Sherlock is not annoyed, angry or disappointed. He seems… happily surprised? Is that the proper way to describe it?

"This entire time?" Sherlock whispered so only the two of them could hear.

John smiled softly and nodded his head once.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"You know why." John countered.

Sherlock frowned.

John sighed and rolled his eyes. "I think you're amazing and wonderful and intelligent and probably the greatest man I have ever met. Even as a child, I knew you were everything and more that a person could ever hope to be."

Sherlock stared at him with a surprised expression. Sherlock had never expected to be looked up upon, only has he ever been looked down on or was intimidating enough for people to run away screaming. Sherlock has never felt before, he only felt when he got Valentines and most recently when he became friends with John. John Watson will always be a puzzle to Sherlock, this confession proving it.

Sherlocks chest did something he has only experienced a couple times before: John shirtless at the lake, their hands accidentally brushing together while they walk, John showing any sort of sadness and need to talk with someone. All of the feelings were different and this time is no exception. Sherlocks heart started beating rapidly and felt as though it beat up into his throat and down to his stomach. A smile spread on his lips. At first Sherlock never liked to feel any sort of feelings, but he found that feeling for John is okay.

Without thinking, Sherlock grabbed Johns face in both hands and kissed him. John let out a surprised gasp that was cut-off on Sherlocks perfect pink lips, lips that John dreamed about. The two of them melted into it instantly, letting the kiss go from messy and hard to slow and gentle.

John wasn't sure how much time had passed, he didn't care, he was kissing Sherlock Holmes. A man that tastes of cinnamon, vanilla and hint of whiskey, a smell that is so very posh and so very Sherlock all at once. John felt like he was soaring.

The two of them broke it of when a awkward chorus of coughs filled the room and John saw that everyone was silent and staring at them with wide eyes and agape mouths. The teacher stood with her hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. "You two finished?" She asked.

John nodded and gave an apologetic smile. When class continued on, John slipped his hand under Sherlocks desk and found the mans left hand. They interlocked their fingers, Sherlocks hand large and cool in his, Johns felt warm and soft in Sherlocks, which is so very John that Sherlock had to physically restrain himself from taking John out into the hallway and continue kissing the hell out of him.

Sherlock then came up with an idea in that moment and thought that it was completely _cheesy_, but if John could do it for twelve years, Sherlock could do it just once.

* * *

John received a note slipped across his desk from Sherlock.

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_I should have known back then_

_Because it will always be you_


End file.
